Preparation

Having had to make bring my stuff from southern France to Edinburgh in two chaotic trips (thanks to EasyJet luggage limits), I’d had it in my head that packing for this upcoming move down to London was going to be a nightmare. After all, I’ve been here four months, longer than I’d been in Aix-en-Provence. My things were pretty scattered around my friend’s flat.

Adding to the dread was a dream I’d had recently, one of those anxiety dreams where, even in the dream, you realize you shouldn’t be stressing so much. In this dream, I was fighting my two suitcases, duffel bag, backpack, and wicker market bag onto the train for London, and spending half of the ride down trying to find places on the train to put all my luggage–which was of course multiplying and busting open, spilling underwear and paintbrushes everywhere. I do actually own that much stuff, but the disorganization of the packing job was the tipoff that I was dreaming. I’ve been in traveling for over six months–when I cram something in a suitcase, it stays crammed.

Why did I bring that much stuff from America, you ask? Well, I thought I was going to be in southern France for the entire school year, eight sedentary months. Instead, I took the spring semester off from school to stay with my friend in Edinburgh, and try to get a work permit through BUNAC for work in London. (I also not only changed majors , but additionally switched schools–but that’s another can o’worms!) Now I’m gearing up for my fourth transferral of the mountain of crap I brought over here. I didn’t really bring anything I haven’t needed, surprisingly. And I haven’t acquired near as much as I thought I would. Which meant that when I finally packed it up a few days ago, I was shocked at how easy the job was. I threw it all into the two suitcases without looking, then turned around real slowly, expecting to see a giant overflowing mess. Instead, I saw two almost-full suitcases. I then spent the next fifteen minutes wandering around the flat in shock, wondering where the rest of my things were.

Maybe this move won’t be so hard, after all.

Of course, the GNER train company had a nationwide computer failure yesterday when I went to buy my ticket at the station. They were unable to sell advance (cheaper) tickets, only for tickets that day. I hope they get the network fixed before 6pm on Friday, the last chance for me to buy a 60 pound ticket instead of a 90 pound one. I arrive at King’s Cross station in London, where I’ve been before, and I’ll take a cab to my first hostel. Getting the bags down to the cab stand, and then up the hostel steps, should be the worst parts. And that’s nothing on the 3 train trips I took in one day this past January, getting from Provence to Edinburgh with three tons of junk and a blistering hangover (don’t ask). If I can do that, I can do this.

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